


tonight i'm gonna let the devil in

by aquaexplicit



Series: after party [1]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, Barebacking, Cisco Doesn't Know Eowells is Eowells or Evilwells but He Has His Doubts, Cisco's Powers, Dubious Consent, Established Relationship, Handcuffs, M/M, Riding, Safewording, Season 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-06 18:53:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11042202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquaexplicit/pseuds/aquaexplicit
Summary: "You need a safe word," Cisco insists again.Harrison tilts his head, idly pulling at the handcuffs. "I trust you, Cisco."





	tonight i'm gonna let the devil in

**Author's Note:**

> The dubious consent tag is regarding Cisco being unsure of Harrison's identity - is he Dr. Wells, is he the Reverse Flash? Who knows!

Joe said they needed to keep up appearances. He made them promise, because exposing even a hint of their doubt regarding Dr. Wells - _Harrison for Cisco, only for Cisco_ \- would be enough to put them in danger.

Barry had readily agreed, even though Cisco knows it's going to be difficult for him. This was the man who was his mentor - _all of their mentors_ \- and his friend - _all of their friends_ \- and was possibly responsible for killing his mother.

It's going to be difficult for Caitlin, too, even though she doesn’t believe Harrison, their Dr. Wells, is capable of any of the things Joe and Barry believe him to be capable of. She can’t see the man as anyone other than the one who introduced her to the love of her life, who reinforced her brilliance, funded her research. She won’t believe he’s the man Barry believes he is until she sees it with her own eyes.

Sees it the way Cisco has. Not that he’s told her, or any of them, about what he’s been seeing when he closes his eyes. He’s holding the dreams slash nightmares slash memories close to his chest - ha - because even if he could give voice to the insanity that rolls violet bright in his brain, he isn’t quite sure what it means. 

Every vision is cradled in a gossamer of pool water blue. It shudders and shimmers over Harrison’s arm, making it glisten as much as buzz as it burrows in Cisco’s heart. There is a light that distorts Harrison’s face, twists it in pain, like it’s his chest cavity breaking around a hand that has been otherwise gentle for years. A staccato reverb pulls at the chords of Harrison’s voice - _in many ways, you’ve shown me what it’s like to have a son_.

They could just be dreams. Fucked up, blurry lined, terrible dreams. Caitlin has told him things breed in the subconscious and come to life at night. Harrison being the Man in Yellow, the Reverse Flash - _actually, I kind of like the name_ \- in Cisco’s terrors in the dark doesn’t mean Harrison is the man in the light.

The vision of Harrison _smiling_ while crushing Cisco’s heart could mean a thousand things. It could speak to Cisco’s insecurity after spilling Barry’s secret to the Rogues. Or to the fear that has been ever festering since the particle accelerator explosion: that Harrison, trapped in his chair and by the derision of Central City, will want to break from the monotony of his misery. Harrison will tire of trying to fix everything they sundered and leave it all broken, Cisco included, in his wake.

There are possibilities, is the point. Explanations for Cisco’s horrors that don’t include Harrison being the man who murdered Barry’s mother and, probably, countless others.

"Cisco?"

Harrison’s voice is a crook, pulling Cisco by the throat from every too sharp thought. They're at Harrison’s dinner table, eating sushi in what would be familiar, comfortable silence if Cisco wasn't still stinging from a thousand open wounds. His tongue is swollen with the stupid ache of wanting to just ask. _Are you him? Did you kill Barry's mom? Did you kill me?_

"I was thinking," Cisco says.

Harrison sips his scotch, eyes radiating the easy warmth that used to make Cisco feel small but cradled and safe. They still do, actually, the same way the gentle tease of Harrison’s smile pulls the wires in his gut taut and hot.  

"Do I get to know what’s going on in that clever mind of yours?" The tone is light, the movement is quick. Cisco's chest _aches_ as if it's already torn open, as if his skin is shredded and his muscles are split and his heart is on full display. It's already in Harrison’s hands. It has been for years. Harrison must be able to feel it hummingbird fast and fragile in his palm. 

Appearances, Cisco thinks. What would he do if he hadn’t been helping Joe and Barry investigate Harrison for murder?

He would run his top teeth over his bottom lip. He would tell Harrison what he’d been researching and aching to bring up for weeks. He would fish the handcuffs that have been gleaming cruelly at him in his backpack since he went with Joe to Starling City. 

So he does. He's about 1000% sure this isn't what Joe was suggesting, but he does. He bites his lip, the way that draws Harrison’s attention to the full pout of his mouth and tells him that Cisco is thinking about something worth sharing. Harrison’s smile grows.

"You remember when we had the talk about keeping things _caliente_ in the bedroom?” Cisco asks. “I think I found something to help us out.”

Black grows in Harrison’s eyes, overtaking the blue like bleeding ink. "Cisco. I told you then, and I'll tell you now, as I'll continue you to tell you, as long as you need to hear it: you can't bore me. You continue to intrigue me as much as the day we first met."

But the black is still growing, and Cisco can't help but think of Harrison as a shark. A brilliant, handsome, _hungry_ shark.

"And that's still very cute," Cisco says, finding it easier than it probably should be to keep his tone teasing. "But how would you feel about handcuffs?" 

-

Harrison’s bedroom is one of Cisco's favorite places in the world. Everything is overstuffed, overlarge, overpriced. It's decadent in design and execution. Cisco has slept himself sore on the silk sheets and soft mattress more times than he can count. 

There's a headboard where the hand bar Harrison uses to transfer himself from wheelchair to bed, bed to wheelchair, is attached. Rungs that suddenly remind Cisco of bars on a prison window line the board. Harrison is already naked, already half hard, blood thick and hot against his thighs, as Cisco threads the chain of the handcuffs between the bars. He has one cuff already secured to Harrison’s right hand. Harrison is watching him with bemused hunger as he slinks the cuff closed on Harrison’s left.  

"You need a safe word," Cisco insists again.

Harrison tilts his head, idly pulling at the cuffs. "I trust you, Cisco."

 _I can help you_ , Cisco had said to the Harrison of his nightmares. That man hadn't trusted Cisco. Hadn't believed him or believed in him. The Harrison who crushes his heart and the Harrison who is watching him with amusement and blood dark desire can't be the same person. They just _can't_ be.

"Still. When I unleash my inner sex beast, I need something to pull me out of my lust fueled frenzy."

"Alright," Harrison says, laughing soft and genuine. A real laugh, cadence slightly lighter than the one he gives to Caitlin and Barry and others. A just for Cisco laugh. "Wouldn't want you to do anything you'd regret in your, ah, lust fueled frenzy." 

Cisco pinches his face into a mock glare that earns him another chuckle. "We can do stop light colors, if you want. I read that's common. Green for go, yellow for slow down, red for stop." 

Harrison quirks an eyebrow. "You read?"

Cisco shrugs. "I researched." There was a girl in college who wanted to tie Cisco up, so he’d already done a bit of reading. No _Fifty Shades of Grey_ stuff, though; every website he found said _safe_ , _sane_ , and _consensual_. Safe words were important.

"Of course you did," Harrison says, approving and utterly endeared. "You're so good, Cisco." 

Cisco kisses him then, finally, and the nerves that have been needling him sick begin to melt at the familiar heat of Harrison’s mouth. The kiss is soft and dry. Easy because they’ve done this at least a thousand times before. Comfortable territory that has nothing to do with pain or secrets or death. Cisco sighs and lets Harrison’s tongue lick away the tension from his jaw.

When he breaks from the kiss, he's panting. Harrison is breathing slightly faster but isn't nearly as affected as Cisco is, as Cisco wants him to be. He smiles at Cisco, heated and challenging. Cisco has never not been able to bite.  

Cisco is balanced on his knees, pressed to Harrison’s side, and he slides his palms over Harrison’s chest. He noses along Harrison’s jaw, inhaling the chemical scent that clings to all of their skin. It mixes with Harrison’s cologne and sweat into a heady smell that makes Cisco dizzy. The scent sends another wave of calm through him, one that crashes with the simple want lapping below his skin.  

He kisses the soft shell of Harrison’s ear. He flicks his tongue wetly against it, coaxing a laugh-moan that shudders darkly when Cisco sinks his teeth into the flesh.

"You are quite the beast," Harrison teases, but he's breathing harder now.

Grinning, Cisco moves to Harrison’s neck. He loses himself in the heat under his mouth, in the sounds of Harrison wanting him, in the feeling of their blood moving hot and together. It feels so _good_ ; familiar, simple, _right_.  

Cisco presses slow, open mouthed kisses over Harrison’s throat, sucking just enough to make Harrison groan but not so much he leaves a mark. That's Harrison’s kink, not his. He doesn’t want Harrison rolling languid into the lab one morning with purple pressed all over his throat. He doesn’t want to deal with the reverse situation, either, after one unfortunate incident where Hartley caught sight of Harrison shaped bite marks on the back of his neck. Harrison strictly sucks bruises into the soft insides of Cisco’s thighs now.  

Cisco swipes his tongue softly over Harrison’s pulse. It reminds him that this - them, tangled together, tasting each other’s skin - is what’s real. Harrison tilts his head, giving Cisco more access. A hot wave rolls under Cisco’s stomach. It’s so much, sometimes, so dizzying that Harrison wants this as much as Cisco does. Cisco moans in time with him, the slow slide of desire covering him inside out. He's hard in his jeans, has been since he got Harrison cuffed, and he can't help but press one heavy palm over himself. 

"Cisco," Harrison says low, like a warning, like even naked and handcuffed to the bed he's in charge of Cisco's pleasure. Cisco's body is conditioned to that voice, though, that sharp tone, and his fingers stutter over himself.

"You can't touch me," Cisco mouths into Harrison’s collarbone. "You're all tied up. If you're not free to do it, someone has to." 

Harrison’s head lulls backwards. He squeezes his eyes. "You have no idea how much you test me," Harrison says, almost as an afterthought, as if Cisco can't hear him.

Cisco aims for salacious as he smiles but his heart is beating cartoon quick in his chest. Harrison must be able to hear it. See it.  

Feel it.

He doesn’t know if he wants to test Harrison. If it’s safe to test Harrison. 

"Let me see you," Harrison says. He sounds far more out of control than he did a few breaths ago.

It spikes Cisco's already shudder hot nerves; it spikes Cisco's need though, too. He's throbbing in his jeans, _aching_ for Harrison to see, to touch.

Cisco drops an open mouthed kiss over Harrison’s nipple, nipping at it to make Harrison grit and twist. Harrison rewards him with a low curse. Rattling inside his chest calmed, Cisco flattens himself on his back.  

He pushes his feet against the bed, unbuttons his jeans, and lifts his hips. Harrison is watching him intently out of the corner of his eye. The weight of Harrison’s gaze, the intensity of it, makes Cisco move as if he's under water, sluggish and with purpose. Harrison pulls lightly at the cuffs when Cisco pushes his jeans and underwear off his hips in one movement. He doesn’t say anything, though.

Naked, Cisco doesn't hurry back to Harrison’s side. Instead he closes his eyes and enjoys the frankly filthy comfort of Harrison’s sheets. He brings his palms to rest low on his stomach. Even the simple touch, his own skin against his skin, makes his cock twitch. 

"Cisco."

Cisco glances at Harrison, casual, as if he can't see the urge to _take_ vibrating under Harrison’s skin. As if his own need doesn't match the vibration.  

Ignoring both of their aches, Cisco lets his fingertips drift over his stomach. He isn't even driving, really, just letting his fingers fall into the gravitational pull of his own desire. The heels of his palms slide over his hips, knuckles bumping his cock, and he shudders. Feels Harrison shudder along with him. He fucks up into nothing and bites his lip to keep from keening as loud and desperate as he feels.

"Touch," Harrison bites, then falters, like he doesn't know if he wants to tell Cisco to touch him or touch himself. Which. Hot. Hot like _burning_ , like hell fire, and there's no way Cisco can halt the needy noise that spills honey thick from his mouth. "Touch yourself, Cisco." 

Cisco doesn't bother arguing or disobeying. It's what they both want and there’s no point denying them. 

He stacks his hands on top of each other in a not-enough grip around his dick. Pulls up, hips chasing his own touch, like his hands aren't connected to the rest of his body. The pressure is too loose and too dry but it's coupled with Harrison’s gaze, heavy and hot as a real touch, and it's good. It's so, so good.

"Was this your plan?" Harrison asks, voice cotton rough and dry. Around a moan, Cisco smiles. "Get yourself off while I watch? I thought you said you wanted to spice things up. Not torture me." 

"Gonna come on your dick," Cisco pants. He hears the handcuffs rattle and doesn't need to look to know Harrison just pulled against them. "Gotta get myself all worked up for it first, though."

He jerks himself off for a few more moments, focusing on the feeling of skin slipping against skin and the sound of Harrison’s ragged breathing. The pleasure is starting to build in the base of his spine, body tingling, toes curling.  

Cisco forces himself to stop. He wasn't teasing. He is going to ride Harrison stupid, the same way he has been since the particle accelerator explosion.

Cisco won't ever say he misses the way Harrison used to spread his thighs and fuck him sloppy and sore. But he does. He knows Harrison does, too.  

Not that there's anything less than perfect about the way things are now. Harrison hardly ever asked Cisco to ride him Before, and Cisco had always gone a little crazy for it. Something about the burn in his spread too wide thighs, about controlling the speed and movement, about the way Harrison _looked_ at him, hungry and awed - God. Cisco had felt wild and powerful.

He still feels that way, even after the hundred or more - definitely more - times he’s ridden Harrison into the sunset since the accident. Harrison still feels it, too, still watches him like he can’t quite believe Cisco rocking up and down on his dick is real life. But it's been nearly a year. Anything can get old after a year.

Cisco has been considering the handcuffs since he and Joe investigated the accident that killed Tess Wells fifteen years ago. It had felt invasive and gross, made his stomach curdle sour and sick. He still hasn't told Harrison what the investigation revealed. What’s a betrayal among lovers, though?

Cisco forces himself not to think of the secrets between them, not to wonder if they're only on Cisco's side of the line. He reaches to the table on the left side of the bed - his side - and fishes out the lube. His fingers hover over the stack of condoms. They're both clean, and they use the rubbers mostly to avoid a mess. Cisco wants a mess tonight. 

Harrison doesn't miss that Cisco doesn't grab them. He inhales, sharp.

"This cool?" Cisco asks. 

"There are few greater pleasures in my life," Harrison says, far too serious for the moment.

Cisco gets on his hands and knees. He doesn't go in for the immediate kill, instead taking his time, breathing heavy over Harrison’s dick before running his cheek along the length. Harrison pulls at the cuffs again.  

"Kiss it, Cisco." Harrison’s voice is somewhere between a demand and a plea, but Cisco knows him well enough to know that even if he wants something, he's not going to beg. Cisco doesn’t plan on making him.

Cisco brushes his mouth, half open, lips wet and hot, over the tip of Harrison’s cock. Harrison shudders and groans and rattles the cuffs. Cisco presses his smile into the cut of Harrison’s hip.

“Tease,” Harrison accuses without bite.

“Just the way you like it.”

Cisco drops kisses up and down Harrison’s dick as he reaches behind himself. Usually Harrison does this. Other than the end, it’s his favorite part. Cisco is pretty sure Harrison would finger him for hours, not stopping until his wrist gave out, if Cisco had the patience. It's one of the things that hasn't had to change since the accelerator explosion. Cisco spreads himself on his back or on all fours, on the bed or in the shower or a workshop table, and Harrison channels all of that sun hot focus on getting Cisco open and wet and pleading.

He's lapping kitten licks on Harrison’s balls when he finally works his second finger in. Pushing himself into the slide of it, he groans, dropping his head against Harrison’s thigh.

"How many?" Harrison asks. He keeps tilting his head, peering as if he can slide his sight around the curves of Cisco's body.

“Two,” Cisco says.  

Harrison makes a sound as if he’s hurt. “You should’ve let me,” Harrison pants. His cheeks are dusted pink and his mouth is blood red wet. “Let me get you open before you put the cuffs on me.”

“Next time,” Cisco promises.  

“Turn around. Let me watch you, Cisco. You’re so pretty when you’re spread open, getting ready to take me. Let me see.”

Cisco pushes his hot cheek against Harrison’s calf. One thing he doesn’t know he’ll ever be used to: Harrison calling him pretty. Sweet, beautiful, exquisite, sometimes, when he’s feeling particularly sentimental. 

Only slightly embarrassed at the clumsiness of his own knees, Cisco gets himself turned around. Harrison makes an animal noise. Cisco works a third finger inside and Harrison makes a noise like he’s _dying_.

“Cisco. I need to touch you.” 

Cisco closes his eyes. “You know what to say,” he whispers.

He rocks back onto his fingers for a few more seconds before looking over his shoulders. Harrison’s cock is jutting pink and perfect between his thighs. Red has spread from his face down his chest. Flushed everywhere, blood hot, all for Cisco.  

“Do you really want me to undo the cuffs?”

Harrison considers it for a long moment. Cisco keeps moving, spreading his fingers, spreading himself, ready for the burning press of Harrison’s dick _yesterday_. But he waits for Harrison’s answer, the only sounds in the room their breathing and Cisco’s quiet, greedy groans.

“No,” Harrison finally says. His jaw is locked tight. “I want you to ride me.”

“Okay,” Cisco agrees easily, sliding his fingers out with a sick, wet pop.

Harrison licks his lips. Cisco doesn’t resist kissing Harrison’s cock again. Pre-cum, sticky and warm, slides over his mouth. If Harrison could, Cisco thinks he would raise his hips, push into the open wet of Cisco’s throat. It makes Cisco pause. Is this cruelty, he wonders, thinking back to Harrison’s earlier words.

Unbidden, a chlorinated blue flash of Harrison smiling cruelly above him shatters behind his eyes. He can almost feel the vibrating hand, see the fingers that have spread him open and begging so many times pulling his veins apart.

That Harrison could walk. Could fuck Cisco’s mouth the way Harrison had before the explosion. Could do it right now. 

Hysteria bubbles bright in Cisco’s throat. He can’t bring this to Joe and Barry, but doesn’t it make a convincing argument? If Harrison was the Reverse Flash, he could walk; if he could walk, why would he purposefully deny himself the pleasure of gripping Cisco’s hair and fucking Cisco into a shuddering mess? Harrison can’t be evil. He wouldn’t let Cisco handcuff him to the bed and tease him like this without bucking up into the warmth of Cisco’s mouth.

“Cisco,” Harrison pants. His eyes are closed and his knuckles are white as his fingers curl tight around the cuffs. He can’t have seen the madness overtake Cisco’s brain. He must think Cisco is just torturing him.

Cisco swallows around his suddenly dry, swollen tongue. Appearances. Act like he would any other day.

Any other day, he would have Harrison’s dick inside of him already.

He straddles Harrison’s hips. His hands move gently over Harrison’s face, thumbs pressing over the hollow points of his mouth. Harrison turns, catches Cisco’s fingers in his mouth, nipping on them with blunt teeth.

Cisco groans as he takes them away, palms fluttering over Harrison’s shoulders. He braces himself as he settles over Harrison’s cock. Thighs already burning, he lowers himself, not slow but steady. Harrison’s eyes fly open as Cisco takes him inside with one smooth motion.  

“Harrison,” he chokes. It always feels like Harrison is pushing pleasure through his entire body. His stomach, chest, throat. It’s all stretched around Harrison’s heat and want.

“So good like this, Cisco. You’re so clever and so pretty and so, so good." 

Cisco’s fingers clutch the sweat slick of Harrison’s skin.

“Not gonna last long,” Cisco warns.

Harrison laughs. And it’s not - it’s different than his just for Cisco laugh, than his surprised or soft or gentle laugh. It’s emptier. It scrapes along the hollows of Cisco’s ribs, rubs wounds there.

“I’m not going to last at all,” Harrison says. He’s staring into Cisco’s eyes. The blackness has spilled again, oil slick and dark. His wrists are straining against the cuffs. “You feel too good, Cisco. Hot. And alive. And so damn _pretty_.”

Cisco has to close his own eyes. He slides his forehead over Harrison’s, palms over Harrison’s chest, rocks back and forth at the most steady speed he can maintain. This man underneath him - this man _inside_ of him, _Christ_ \- is not the same Harrison he took to bed a few nights ago.  

Is it?

Fuck. _Fuck_.

_Is it?_

Cisco moves, dragging the head of Harrison’s cock over that shocking spot inside of him. He decides to focus on that shuddering pleasure. He knows that, can feel it in his muscles instead of just his dreams. This is real, he tells himself, rocking onto the hard, delicious drag of Harrison inside of him. This is real, this is real, this is real.

“Cisco.” It’s bitten off, dark and deep, and Cisco knows that tone. It’s the best sound in the world.

Cisco clenches tight. He bounces with as much force as he can manage, fucking himself as quick and hard as he can. Tries to recreate the speed and force Harrison achieved when he would spread Cisco on his back in this very bed, get Cisco’s ankles over his shoulders, hands palming large and rough on Cisco’s ass.  

“Fuck, Harrison.”

“ _Cisco_ ,” Harrison growls again. He strains against the cuffs and comes.

The force of Harrison’s voice, his moan, throws Cisco off kilter. His movements stutter and he loses his rhythm. His head slides, hair falling over Harrison’s collar, and he clenches hard around Harrison’s still hard cock.

“Let me touch you,” Harrison pants. He mouths along Cisco’s cheekbone, his jaw.  

“Do you remember the safe words?” Cisco asks against his neck, unsure if Harrison is speaking mindlessly or truly wants out of the cuffs. Unsure if he feels steady enough that Harrison's hands won't sink inside of his chest if Cisco releases them.

“ _Yellow_.” 

Cisco clenches his jaw and forces himself to still.

“Sorry,” he whispers, hands petting down Harrison’s chest. “Sorry. Do you need me to take them off? Do you need me to stop?”

Harrison noses at Cisco’s chin, tilting it, forcing Cisco to meet his eyes.  

“Can you,” Harrison starts. He’s completely breathless, red, damp with sweat. His nostrils are flared as if he can scent his prey. Cisco shudders. “Can you come without me touching you?”

Cisco nods before he fully processes the question. “Yeah,” he pants.  

Harrison closes his eyes. “Then come, Cisco.”

Cisco nods again, eager to obey, eager to get off. The pressure at the base of his cock is lead heavy and thick. It _hurts_ , pressing almost too close to the pain side of the pleasurepain edge they dance on. But it feels so heady, makes Cisco dizzy and greedy and pliant. He’s ready to do anything to finish, but he never wants to slide out of Harrison’s lap. His body is so _empty_ without Harrison inside.

Ignoring the groan of his muscles, Cisco forces himself to slide up and then, quickly, back down. He sets a fast pace for himself. The sound of skin slapping, of Harrison’s too sensitive, half-pained moans, slide wet around the room. Everything feels summer thick and fog damp.  

Cisco finds Harrison’s mouth, open and wet. Their tongues tangle together. Cisco knots one hand in Harrison’s hair, groaning at the slide of silk, and curls the other one into the head board for balance and leverage. He drops himself over and over and over again, hitting that spark hotspot with each brutal bounce.

All he wants to do is feel Harrison’s hand curl around his cock, jerk him those last few points of pressure to orgasm. But he doesn’t. Harrison hasn’t said red yet and it would feel too much like changing the rules in the last few minutes of the game.

Besides, Harrison’s mouth burning all over his cheeks, Harrison’s chin scraping back and forth over his nipples, is enough to bring him to the razor edge of pleasure. The sword sharp of it will leave enough cuts that he’ll still feel the bite of Harrison’s stubble over his nipples tomorrow.  

He’s so close. He just needs… something. One more ounce of pressure or slide of mouths and he’ll be _there_. All he needs is Harrison surging forward, capturing his mouth in a kiss that’s more teeth than lips, more bite than softness. He fucks himself down hard one more time before his cock jerks between their stomachs.

When he spills, it’s hot and messy and perfect.

He drops his forehead to Harrison’s again.

“Christ,” Cisco breathes, clenching hard around Harrison where he’s still buried deep inside.

They remain like that, panting, breathing in each other’s air and the musky warmth of sex, for minutes. Hours or moments, maybe. Cisco can’t tell. He’s frozen in a clench of burning muscles and sensitive skin. It takes Harrison’s mouth on his jaw, teeth skating over his bone, to make him move. 

He reaches for the handcuffs first. Harrison is perfectly still while Cisco undoes the latch that releases the cuffs. As soon as they’re off, Cisco drops them on the floor by the side of the bed. The clatter they make as they hit the wood echoes in Cisco’s ears.

Harrison’s hands immediately come to his face, cradling his jaw with firm palms. Fingers stroke over his cheeks, his nose, his lips, pushing into his mouth, dancing over his tongue. Cisco let’s his mouth lull slack for Harrison’s exploration.

“I don’t know if I like not being able to touch you,” Harrison says finally. “It takes…a great amount of control.” 

Cisco swallows. “Then how about you put me in the handcuffs next time?”

Harrison’s palms slides all over his body; up his arms, across his stomach and sides, around to the flushed skin of his ass. He squeezes at Cisco with hungry touches before his fingers dance up Cisco’s chest, finding his nipples with blunt but gentle nails.

“I could be persuaded to try that,” Harrison pants against his mouth. “Cuff your hands behind your back. Make you ride me like that.” 

Cisco shivers. Lust rolls down his spine, curls his toes, because _damn._  It sounds hot and hard and his thighs and shoulders are already crying at the phantom stretch. His cock is giving a valiant effort to stir again. Being vulnerable to Harrison’s want, to Harrison’s hands, is always good.

His throat seizes as something dark whispers his vision behind his eyes. He thinks of Harrison’s fist in his chest and how he couldn’t stop it, how his hands had trembled dumbly at his sides. Free of any restraints, Cisco hadn’t even been able to fight his own death.

He presses his cheek into Harrison’s cheek and breathes. Just a dream. A nightmare. Harrison wouldn’t really hurt him.  

Cisco eases off of Harrison’s cock and falls into the bed beside him.  

“Was that okay?”

“Mmm,” Harrison grumbles by way of an answer. He slides into the bed, pulling Cisco into the nook of his chest. “Your mind is going to be the death of me.”

Cisco doesn’t say anything as Harrison tangles their hands together, bringing them to rest on his chest. Cisco flattens his palm over Harrison’s heart.

“Your heart is racing,” he says softly, running his fingers over the flat sex warm of Harrison’s chest. He tries to imagine pushing his hand through the flushed flesh. Sliding past muscle and bone to feel the heart flutter in his palm. Curling his fingers to crush it.

Cisco’s stomach tilts, followed by his world, and he slides his palm to Harrison’s ribs. He can still feel the echo of Harrison’s staccato heart beat.

“That’s just what you to do me,” Harrison murmurs. Sleep is creeping into his voice. He smiles with his eyes closed. “Do I still do the same to you?”

Terror overtakes him when Harrison moves a lazy hand to paw at his chest. Panicked, fight fluttering horrified over flight, Cisco brings Harrison’s fingertips to the pulse hammering in his throat.

Harrison cracks his eyes open, then, peering at Cisco through his lashes.

“Everything okay, Cisco?”

“Yeah,” Cisco says, bringing Harrison’s fingers to his mouth. He presses quick kisses to them before twining their hands together. “That was just more intense than I expected.”

Harrison nods. “Yes. I suppose the real thing is much different than your readings?”

“Much different,” Cisco agrees.

Harrison kisses his forehead, and something in the gentle, done a hundred times brush cuts Cisco’s ribs. “As much as I enjoy and appreciate your efforts in the bedroom, I meant what I said. You continue to captivate me.”

Cisco presses his face into Harrison’s chest, hearing the rhythm of his heart. The beat has steadied. Cisco can still feel his racing. 

“I’m gonna go turn off all the lights.”

“Leave them,” Harrison says. He tightens the arm he has around Cisco’s middle. Trails his fingertips over Cisco’s arm with his free hand. “I know you’re exhausted. Get some sleep. I’ll drive you home in the morning.” 

For the first time ever, Cisco thinks about protesting. He loves spending the night in Harrison’s bed, at Harrison’s side. But those images have been coming to him every night for the past four nights, and he hasn’t spent any of them in Harrison’s bed. He tells himself this could be good. Maybe having Harrison dreaming next to him will calm his own sleep.

“Okay,” Cisco says, unease marring the generally warm, dreamy content of this moment. “Good night.”

Harrison is already breathing heavier, more steady. Cisco studies his face. The deep rise and fall of his chest. Cisco knows, without a doubt, he could never hurt Harrison. Even if he is the Reverse Flash, even if he did kill Barry’s mother, even if evil is his true calling. This thing they have isn’t a lie.  

Cisco settles against the firm plane of Harrison’s chest, falling asleep to the steady beat of his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> i've been talking to screaming-towards-apotheosis about our eowells/cisco feels and listening to adore delano's after party on repeat. the lines "pull my hair / i'll tie your arms around my favorite chair / i'll kiss your neck and then i'll kiss you there" really spoke to me on a spiritual level in regards to this pairing.


End file.
